


The Beastmaster

by idrilhadhafang



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Darth Sion Lives, Darth Sion Redemption, Fix-It, Force Healing (Star Wars), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: Jedi Exile Arawn Sinn revives Sion in the Trayus Academy, and that changes everything.
Relationships: Female Jedi Exile/Darth Sion, Female Jedi Exile/Darth Sion/Atton “Jaq” Rand, The Jedi Exile/Atton "Jaq" Rand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bad Day Collection





	1. From The Brink

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: Call this an idea that’s been rattling in my head for some time. You know me and my addiction to fix-it fic.

In the Trayus Academy, Darth Sion had to face the fact, the simple, honest fact, that Darth Traya (that Kreia) had been right all along. Sion had thought that he was right about the Dark Side, but it wasn’t the case. 

He was wrong. 

He was talking. Trying to warn this Jedi, the one Jedi that meant the galaxy to him, of the danger ahead. “Kreia...she will try to break you. To teach you how far someone can fall. Her weakness is you. As you were mine. I am glad to leave this place...at last.”

”No!” Arawn, by his side. Her hands, on his chest as he collapsed. “Sion...it doesn’t have to end this way. It doesn’t...”

***

It was when Sion woke that he wondered, for a moment, if the Sith version of the afterlife typically involved your hated Master standing over you, radiating fury...and more than that, the closest to pain that Sion had ever felt from her. 

”Where is the Exile?” he said. He sounded so very weak, so very hesitant. “Is she...safe?”

”She healed you.” Traya said. “I don’t know why she would agree to do it for you, of all beings...but she always had a tendency to give out kindness that wasn’t earned. Even towards you.”

”For once, I’d say the old witch has a point.” The fool, Atton Rand, knelt beside the Exile’s unconscious form. “After everything you did to her, you’re lucky she didn’t kill you."

”Indeed.” Sion squatted down in front of the Exile’s body. 

Atton glared up at him. “Don’t touch her. Don’t you even think about touching her. Either one of you monsters.”

Sion stood back just then. He watched the Exile, seeming so fragile, but so very strong, as Atton carried her. And Sion hated him, right then and there — hated him for keeping him from the Exile, when he had genuinely wanted to save her. 

It had been why he had done everything to try and help her. Why he had pleaded with Kreia to spare her, why he had tried to get her to leave, and when she’d been wonderfully stubborn, he’d dueled her. 

She had no reason to care for him. He hadn’t tried to hurt her — somehow, Sion doubted he could ever do that — but he had hurt her companions, and those she sought to protect. 

He could feel Kreia’s anger — and then, “I know it sounds implausible for you to understand, Atton, but she is dying. I have to give her just enough energy to revive her. It’s how Colonel Tobin survived on Onderon. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

Atton sighed. “Fine. If you hurt her in any way, though...”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Sion could already sense how scared he was. Scared of losing her.

***

Kreia’s transfer of energy was enough. Enough to sustain the Exile. It was en route to the surface that the Exile stirred. “Atton...?"

”It’s okay,” Atton said. “Arawn,” and Sion noticed, not for the first time, how lovely her name sounded. “We’re nearly there. You really...you nearly died saving Sleeps-With-Vibroblades here.”

”What?” Sion said. Of all the ridiculous names...

”Though he doesn’t quite look like he sleeps with vibroblades anymore,” Atton said, and Sion swore he was going to finish the job that he started in the Trayus Academy if Atton didn’t shut up, “I’ll say that much.”

”If you keep talking,” Sion warned, “We’ll have to have another duel.”

“That...won’t be necessary,” Arawn said. “And Atton, put me down. I can walk fine.”

Atton, hesitantly, did. 

Arawn got to her feet just then. “So it worked,” she said. “I didn’t think it would.”

”Why?” Sion said. “Why did you do this?”

”Because...” Arawn looked hesitant. Then, “I couldn’t just let you die, Sion. Not if it was possible to save you.”

”But why _me_?” 

Sion looked at Arawn, really looked at her — her hair coming out of its high ponytail, a mess around her soft-featured face. A woman of twenty-eight, who fought with all her being against not being able to help people...

”You were broken,” she said. “You were lonely. And even though...HK suggested it, I couldn’t just talk you into essentially suicide. It seemed...wrong.”

”Suicide would have been merciful,” Sion rumbled. “Do you know how long I’ve lived, Exile? Too long. Plague after plague, battle after battle, kill after kill. Too long.”

And then there was her. The one Jedi who had broken through him, to the remnants of compassion that he had. They had always been there. Sion had only buried them so deep, so down, that it had been easy to ignore. To be an instrument of the Dark Side. 

And she...well, she had weakened him. Brought out those better emotions. Crawled inside his head, holding no thoughts or teachings, but just being there. 

It was the closest Sion could get to saying he’d fallen in love with her.

She looked up at him. “You could start a new life,” she said. “Visas did. Revan did.”

”I heard,” Sion said. He was undeniably bitter at Revan’s betrayal; Revan could have healed the galaxy, and instead he'd given into weakness. 

Sion had always wanted to make the galaxy strong. Why couldn’t Revan? 

”There’s always a chance,” Arawn said. 

***

It was Hanharr who stayed behind to set off the Mass Shadow Generator; Mira had negotiated it with him as a chance to do some good. Even as they blasted off from Malachor, Sion could not help but notice that the Exile seemed so very tired — and it was while the fool was getting a prosthetic hand attached (compliments of the ship’s medic, Mical) that he spoke to the Exile.

"Are you...well?” How exactly did he comfort someone? He hadn’t done that in a long time. 

Arawn looked up at him. “Hello, Sion." She seemed to be getting used to the idea that there was a Sith Lord on her ship. Two, actually, considering Kreia. 

“You seem unhappy.” Sion couldn’t describe some of how he felt. How he wanted Arawn to be happy — even though he couldn’t say that he’d felt those things in some time. This woman, this Jedi — she was molding him, crafting him like clay, just by being there. 

”Malachor’s been such a prominent part of my life,” Arawn said. “My greatest failure.”

”You found victory there.”

”And you and others found damnation there,” Arawn said. “Atton, Mira, Kreia...so many.”

”I was already damned,” Sion said. "I did fight in the Mandalorian Wars, but on the side of the Sith.” A beat. “I had never seen you before now, but I knew you were strong. Fearless.”

”Not unbreakable.”

”But fearless.” Who had made her feel like she wasn’t? "Had you been on the side of the Sith, you would have been a formidable force.”

”I...suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.” Then, “You said you hated me. Because I was...beautiful to you. Was that...?”

”It was the closest approximation of how I...appreciated you.” There. There it was. “I am a Dark Sider. Was. I do not know who I am now.”

”I could train you.”

”You believe you could gentle the monster?”

”I don’t think you’re a monster. Not completely.” Arawn looked up at him. “You wanted Kreia’s approval. I know that. And there are shreds of kindness in you, even if they’re buried. You’ve done bad things, but...there is good in you. There is a capacity for you to be better.”

”Is there?”

”I know it.” Arawn said. 

Silence. 

”The Sith is all I’ve known,” Sion said. "But...I suppose I could at least forge a new path for myself. Free from what I know."

And somewhere, there was something...something that made him want to make this woman, this wonderful, powerful woman, happy. Even if she felt nothing for him in return but friendship and pity. 

”Exactly,” Arawn said. 

”And I wish to protect you,” Sion said. “To shield you.” _To make sure that whoever broke you can never break you again_. 

”I do welcome whatever assistance I can get," Arawn said. “We should check in with Mical.”

”Your medic,” Sion said. 

”Yes.”

***

”...your vitals seem to be stable,” Mical said. “What Arawn did...it helped you." A beat. “I only wonder how, regarding your injuries, you stayed alive so long.”

”Practice,” Sion said. That was all he was willing to disclose to Mical.

”I see,” Mical said. “And Arawn...she tried to convince you to come with her, as I understand it?”

”Yes."

"And then saved you.” 

”Yes.”

”It sounds like her.” Mical said. Then, “I won’t do anything to harm you on this ship. Medics have sworn to do no harm. But I do hope you won’t hurt Arawn or Kreia again.”

”I would not dream of harming the Exile.”

”You had no problem nearly killing her on the _Harbinger_.”

”What are you talking about?”

***

Sion was in a fresh set of clean robes — Sith robes that Arawn had, somehow, picked up in her travels. Somehow — when Arawn told him everything. About the Bond with Kreia. 

”So when I...severed Kreia’s hand,” Sion said, "I hurt you as well.”

”Through the Force,” Arawn said.

It had been battle. It had been a case of wanting to get revenge on Kreia, to finish her off once and for all — something that Sion, once again, couldn’t do. But to think he’d hurt Arawn...

Sion could feel his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I never thought...”

”You didn’t know — ”

“By the lost Sith, you are too forgiving," Sion said. “In my quest for vengeance, I could have murdered an innocent woman. A woman I had sworn...” He took a deep breath; it felt odd, being able to breathe again. “I am sorry. In regards to my own foolishness, being blinded by vengeance...I am sorry.”

”You’re learning. That’s a good thing, that you’re learning.” And the way she smiled — Force, she was already beautiful, but here she looked almost angelic. Sion found his heart aching despite himself — at her smile, at her hope and belief in him that he most definitely hadn’t earned.

”Why are you doing this?” he said. 

”Everyone deserves a second chance,” Arawn said. “Not to mention...we are alike in some ways. I could have been you — and I can’t ignore that part of me. And you seemed alone. I know how it feels to be lonely.”

”On the ship?”

”Not here,” Arawn said. “But in my exile, yes.”

Sion watched her. Already, he made a quiet promise to her to help her never feel like that again. 

”You’ll never be alone,” Sion said. 

”Neither will you.”

Sion didn’t know what he did to deserve this one woman's mercy. Her faith in him. He could only sit in meditation, alone in one of the crew quarters, and quietly thank the Force for its one moment of mercy. 


	2. Gentling the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sion begins his path to redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Sion jolted awake later in the morning (was it morning? There was no morning light in space) after a flashback to fighting a Jedi, feeling, suddenly, like he was nineteen again and fighting Jedi. When he was operating on nothing but his own rage, his own fury. 

Of course, he wasn’t nineteen anymore. He was...Force, how old was he now? Probably centuries old. He didn’t know it for certain, but he could feel it, deep in his bones. He could feel it aching, burning. 

”Are you okay?” Arawn’s voice. Somehow, she’d made it to his room. 

Sion looked at her, how she seemed disheveled herself. Messy dark hair coming out of her small ponytail. Her eyes, wide and almost haunted-looking. 

”How did you get here?” he said. 

”I heard you.”

”Did you?” Sion sat up more, in an almost meditative position. "You seem to not know when to leave well enough alone.”

”I want to help people. There’s nothing bad about that. Well, even if Kreia has...some issues with it."

Sion paused. That had been why he had gone into battle in the first place, wasn’t it? As Gareth Keto — a name that seemed almost like it belonged to someone else. 

"You remind me of...who I used to be.” Sion said. “It seems like a separate person, but I do remember."

”What happened to you?”

How did he even begin to explain? "There was an explosion,” Sion said. “It burned me.” He could remember, confronting one of the men on his homeplanet and that _look_ the man had given him — like he was some sort of monster...

“Was that how...”

”I had a multitude of injuries,” Sion said. “You could say. I had an _extensive_ body of work.”

Arawn nodded. “It sounds agonizing,” she said.

”I thought it was a gift. A sense of purpose from the Force. Perhaps...” That hurt Sion worse than any injury ever could. Injuries could heal. Realizations of your own stupidity couldn’t. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

He didn’t miss the way Arawn’s hand (small, but so strong) brushed over his shoulder. Sion didn’t miss how oddly soothing the touch was. How long had it been, since he’d been touched without the anticipation of pain?

”There’s quite a few people on this ship who’ve realized that they were wrong,” Arawn said. “You’re far from alone."

”I see."

***

"I don’t like this.”

Kaah Ohtok was the one to speak to Arawn when she went to check on him. 

”I know, Kaah,” Arawn said. 

”You don’t. This...thing tortured me. Tortured my master. You can't just save him because he was nice to you.”

Arawn winced. “That’s not why, Kaah.” Then, “I know Sion's hurt a lot of people. Including people on this ship. I simply..."

How did she explain it? Her feelings of helplessness during the Mandalorian Wars, when she had watched people die horribly, violently? When she’d wanted to save just about everyone, from themselves? 

Even the people who didn’t die, like Revan. Seeing Revan descend into madness, and being unable to reach him. Seeing him become his own antithesis, all in the name of peace and security. 

How did she explain it to a nineteen year old Twi’lek? It would most likely sound so selfish...

”Everyone has the potential to come back, Kaah,” she said. “Everyone."

Kaah shuddered. “Maybe. I just remember...he was so angry. He was just ranting about how Master Vash had wronged you...I don’t know why he would care."

Arawn frowned. “I don’t either."

***

”Why did you torture Master Vash and Kaah Ohtok?"

Even as Arawn faced Sion, she had to tell herself that Sion wasn’t the same man who had relentlessly hunted her. 

Sion spoke. “You are remarkably defensive of Master Vash given that she was the first to exile you. Not to mention her attempting to strip you of the Force on Dantooine.”

"I know what she did,” Arawn said. “But she and Kaah...they didn’t deserve that.” Then, “Sion...you can’t just torture people.”

”Can pain not be a form of enlightenment?”

Arawn sighed. “You’re not learning anything.”

Silence. 

”You and Kreia are alike,” Sion said. “Though different in the ways that matter."

”That’s the key, isn’t it?” Arawn said. “Different."

Sion paused. Then, “You...are as different from Kreia as one can possibly be."

”I suppose that’s good.”

”Of course it is,” Sion said. "Vash and Ohtok...I did hate them. They had the opportunity to embrace the heart of war, to see power, and not only did they turn away from it, they rejected you.”

”Vash did. Kaah would have been but a child at the time.”

She could have sworn Sion’s eye twitched. She couldn’t say what he was thinking, at least in that moment. 

”So one of them I punished...did not know why he was being punished.” Sion spoke, carefully, almost like he was considering every word.

”Yes.”

A beat. 

"Vash was a fool. But Ohtok...he was undeserving.” Then, "I do wonder if there is a way to...apologize to him.”

”I think you’ll have to work hard,” Arawn said. “Among other things...just fight with us. By our side.”

Silence. Then, “We may have to go to Telos. You...you were falsely accused of destroying Peragus, were you not?”

”Telos has fuel — ”

“Yes. But I believe that turning myself in may be a good first step.”


	3. Delving Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arawn returns to Telos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Arawn could at least assure Grenn not to rough up the two Sith she brought back from Malachor when she got back to Telos. Sion and Traya. Grenn was stuck interviewing Sion. Lucky him, he thought sarcastically. Still, Grenn had nerves of durasteel; he wasn’t about to let Sion intimidate him. 

”Right.” Grenn said. “Can you tell me what happened? What actually happened?”

”I had nothing to do with any of the Peragus murders save the Harbinger, and even then, my assassins did the deed, not I.”

”Right. Noted.” Grenn had to fight a twinge of revulsion even as the datapad recorded Sion’s statement. “Why exactly did you do it?”

”I was hunting my master,” Sion said, evenly. "She had infiltrated the Harbinger, trying to get away from my ship. I believe that she was trying to make it into a step in her plans.”

”...explain.”

"It was Kreia.”

”Wait, what? The old woman that traveled with Arawn?” Grenn nearly gripped his desk in shock. _Stars, Arawn was traveling with a Sith manipulator the whole time..._

“The very one.”

After this, Grenn would have to ask Lieutenant Yima if she was up for drinking later that night. “So...you were after your...Master. How did she get there in the first place?”

”You do remember the Sith Lord that attacked Telos?”

”Vividly,” Grenn said.

”We were...compatriots at most,” Sion said. “Both of us were Kreia’s students, though perhaps that’s too generous a term.” A beat. “That was not completely her fault, naturally; the way of the Sith does include methods that to outsiders would be considered abusive.”

 _To any sane person_ , Grenn thought. "That doesn’t quite answer my question.”

”Lord Nihilus, the Sith who attacked Telos, and I had cast her out prior to the incident with the _Harbinger_.” Sion paused; there was something about his eyes, Grenn thought, that were truly unsettling to look into. "I let her go. I thought that being without the Force would be enough.”

 _You haven’t met me, have you_? 

"Years later, I came across the Ebon Hawk when Kreia...acquired it. I do not know how she did. But we crossed paths again. I was fully intending on killing her, and her alone. I thought that the Exile had no part of this.” A beat. “Indeed, she was nothing more than a vehicle for Kreia’s manipulations.”

”Um, what do you mean?”

”Kreia wanted to kill the Force itself, if I recall correctly. She had alluded to it in my previous lessons with her, and...she fancied herself a visionary. She used to be a historian for the Jedi Order, as far as I can tell, and she was...involved in it. Questioning, analyzing. She would have even uprooted the very foundations of the Sith. Imagine!”

”I’m...sure that’s very upsetting.” Then, “And Peragus? Admiral Onasi learned that you, not the Exile, were behind it. Care to explain what blowing up an asteroid colony has to do with you being mad at your master?”

”That...was an accident.”

Grenn couldn’t speak, at least for a moment. “You accidentally — how do you accidentally destroy a whole mining colony?”

”You could say that one of my gunners was...incompetent.”

After all this, Grenn had a feeling that he’d definitely need alcohol after this questioning. "Do you have any idea — Telos nearly — if you were going to sabotage Telos, you could have at least done it intentionally!”

”It is far from how I do things, Lieutenant,” Sion said. “I prefer more...personal means of reconnaissance. More subtle."

Grenn sighed. “And the Exile?”

He didn’t miss how Sion’s face seemed to soften. His voice too. “She...saved my life. More than I deserve.”

”That’s Arawn, I guess.”

***

By the time Lieutenant Grenn was done questioning Kreia and everyone else on the Hawk, he turned to Lieutenant Yima. “You up for hitting the cantina tonight? I had to interview the guy who blew up Peragus by accident.”

Yima startled. “How do you ‘accidentally’ blow up an asteroid field? That’s my question.”

”It should be considered impressive,” Grenn said. “At least we can...possibly let him off the hook for destroying Peragus. Unfortunately, we have stuff like torture and attempted murder to consider, as well as successful murder.” He thought of the crewmembers that hadn’t made it back from the Harbinger.

”We do,” Yima said. 

Grenn thought of the way that Sion’s face had softened when he’d mentioned Arawn’s name. Bizarrely enough, he hadn’t started frothing at the mouth about losing to a girl when that had happened. There was a weird sort of gentleness there that seemed out of place with the Sith who had orchestrated the murder of the Harbinger’s crew and the commandeering of the ship.

Still, did it matter? After all, maybe it didn’t matter if you weren’t willing to show other people that same common courtesy. Colonel Tobin and General Vaklu had loved Onderon and that hadn’t gone anywhere. 

Talking of Onderon, he wondered absently how the questioning for General Vaklu was going. 

“What about the old woman?” Yima said. “She’s responsible for multiple deaths, including the deaths of Masters Vrook, Kavar, Zez-Kai Ell, Vash...”

Grenn sighed. “That’s the thing, Yima. Kreia, or Darth Traya, is a murderer. The thing is, she claims she did it to protect Arawn, killing the Jedi Masters. She was a stone-cold scow but she genuinely loved her...but it doesn’t mean anything, does it, if you don’t care about anyone else?" A beat. “Things were a lot simpler when I was dealing with Czerka.”

”Yeah, at least Lorso was just sleazy.” Yima took a deep breath. “If it’s all the same to you, I could use that drink.”

***

They were kept in an apartment, the group of them. It reminded Arawn of the night before they headed off to Malachor V...which only reminded her. 

“Kreia,” she said, "There’s something I must know.”

Kreia turned to look at her. “You no doubt have many questions. I would be a poor teacher if I did not answer them right here, now.”

”Was it all a lie?” Arawn already felt the hurt rising in her chest. “Stars — if I’d never met you...would any of this have happened?”

”Exile. Look at me.”

Arawn did. 

"I did use you. There is no denying that.”

”To get revenge,” Arawn said. “So I just meant nothing to you. I was just a dejarik piece...”

“Nothing to me? That’s where you’re wrong. You meant something to me. From the start.”

”It’s...” And yet, Arawn could feel it. The utter sincerity leaking from Kreia, as close to sincerity as the ex-Jedi-ex-Sith could come up with. 

“You are more than a dejarik piece,” Kreia said. "There were times that we...disagreed, yes. But you weren’t that different than when I first met you at the Academy."

”You...” Then, “Is Kreia your real name?”

”I became Kreia, Exile. It is symbolic — symbolic of who I was when I was cast away. The lady Traya, the Jedi who went to the Mandalorian Wars.”

”How come I don’t remember you?”

”You do,” Kreia said. "You forgot Bao-Dur for some period of time despite serving with him. You likely forgot others. Revan’s master...Kae did not die when she went to Malachor V."

”Kavar recognized you.”

”Because the Jedi cast me away,” Kreia said. “For my teachings, and my daughter.”

Arawn couldn’t speak for a while. She should be happy, to be reunited with Revan’s master. And yet here, she was not happy. 

“Master Kae?”


	4. In Her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arawn deals with the reveal about Kreia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: The bit about Sion’s meditation position was taken from an observation on his TV Tropes character page I found interesting.

“That name,” Kreia said, “Is a dead woman. A dead life.”

”It’s the name of your — ”

” — my true self, I have only forgotten?” Kreia said. “Arawn...it has been ten years. At least. You cannot be so in denial. And I did not degrade. I became stronger, instead.” A beat. “My paramour is gone, many I know are gone. It is only fitting that Arren Kae is gone with them.”

”You could have told me,” Arawn said. 

“I told the truth, if by omission.”

”You can’t do that,” Arawn said. Then, “Yusanis loved you. I know he loved you.”

”And yet he left me behind.” There was...something there in Kreia’s voice. Something Arawn didn’t expect. The same hurt, the same worry that you were unimportant. “You were on the ship, Arawn. It’s...different digging yourself out."

”You didn’t approve of Lootra not searching for his wife,” Arawn said. “You know what it’s like to be abandoned. Trapped. First the Jedi...then your lover." A beat. “Master Kae, this is my fault."

”You made the sacrifice,” Kreia said. "The Mass Shadow Generator was an undeniably barbaric machine. A monstrosity, an abomination. Bao-Dur never should have made it. But I felt everything. I remember everything. When you were afraid.”

”Do you hate me for it? It’s fair.”

Kreia laughed, harshly. “You and your pity. Your love for others. I could never hate you.”

Arawn blinked. “So I did mean something to you.”

”You, Revan, Malak...of course you did.”

Arawn did smile, if faintly. 

“You are more important to me than anything.”

It frightened Arawn, in her way. Realizing that in her own poisoned way, Kreia did love her. She seemed to attract the poison kinds of love. Atris, for example. 

“I should have known.”

***

Arawn tried to sleep. Force willing she did. It only seemed that her dreams were filled with fragments of sayings. Atris’ “because I care for you”. Sion’s confession on Malachor. Visas, and her saying that she would die first, and gladly. Memories. And of course, Kreia’s discussion with her. 

Arawn shot awake, reeling, her head spinning wildly even as she took in the others sleeping. Almost all the others. Sion, at least, seemed...restless.

It dawned on Arawn that she was all but forcing people to follow her, unknowingly. Mical had said it was because she was a leader. It didn’t explain how she had seen Atris devolve into something unrecognizable.

Hadn’t Vrook said that she was a cipher, a leech, a threat to living creatures and all who felt the Force? 

Mical had made a counterpoint to that. But after Atris, Sion, Master Kae...

“Are you well?”

Sion’s voice. Arawn looked up. “I think I know what happened to you. Why you follow me.”

***

”This is all such nonsense.”

Even after Arawn had explained what she could of the Enclave, Sion’s response surprised her. 

“I knew the Jedi Masters were fools,” Sion said. “But not like this. Vrook especially. He seems to have disliked you for petty reasons.” Then, “So if this idiot was around, he’d suggest that you mind controlled me.”

”Basically. I just don’t want people to go to extremes for me.”

”To feel _is_ to go to extremes.”

Silence. 

“When did you...hate me in a different way? And what did you mean? Hating me because I was beautiful to you?”

Sion looked thoughtful. Then, “To feel is complicated. Before the Mandalorian Wars, operating in the shadows with the Sith, I was very much alone. Even amongst the Sith I was alone. I was used to being alone. I was used to feeling alone. Everyone I knew had left or died and to be a Sith is fundamentally to be alone. With you...it is easy to feel a kinship for someone who you see yourself in.”

“It’s kinship then?” Maybe it made sense. Perhaps it wasn’t romantic love, or even physical lust. Perhaps it was Sion feeling like he needed her. Like he identified with her. 

“One could say.”

”That’s good.” Arawn started picking at the thread of Nomi Sunrider’s green robe, feeling suddenly like there was dirt on her she couldn’t get off. “It feels...no, I shouldn’t say it. It’s arrogant. But...”

“Tell me.”

Arawn looked up. “I’m tired of people destroying things in my name. Atris...she fell because she was angry with me and the Jedi, basically. Kreia killed Jedi Masters for my sake. Visas swore she’d die first for me. I don’t want to be someone who inspires such strong feelings. I want people to stop destroying things in my name. It...makes me wonder if Vrook was right.”

”He was not. Arawn...”

Arawn looked up at him. It struck her how he was built, almost tanklike. Malak was tall, but Sion was simply big. Muscle and strength. 

“It is obvious they love you."

”And you?"

Sion faltered. Then, “I care about you,” he said. “As much as anyone reasonably would.”

”I just don’t want people doing awful things because they love me.”

”I think that is unavoidable. You could say that love is a double-edged vibroblade. It was why the Sith feared it; it could destroy and heal and redeem. Only mercy was worse...or so Uthar Wynn told me.”

”Your master?”

”A compatriot,” Sion said. “Exar Kun was...not so much my master as my general. What were you told about him?”

Arawn paused. Thought back to the Academy. “He was tortured into being evil.”

” ‘Evil' is a bit of an oversimplification.”

”He was still tortured,” Arawn said. “I heard stories about how Freedon Nadd injured him. How he refused to heal him until he embraced the Dark Side. You could say he was a victim as well as a villain.”

Sion paused. Then, “Sith are not victims.”

”You had to get those scars from somewhere.”

Silence. 

Sion paused. Then, “I got them from various sources. I am an old man, Arawn. I have lived longer than I would have liked.”

”You...” Arawn took him in. Strong. Muscled. Tall. “You don’t look it,” she finally said, astonished. 

“I suppose I should be flattered. But I am old. I have scattered memories, but the people in them are dead.”

Arawn looked up at him. “You’re like me,” she said. 

“You are better than me.”

Sion’s fingers brushed her shoulder. Brushed it, and Arawn felt a strange sense of comfort despite herself. Sion was capable of gentleness. He was not a harmless man, not by any means. But there were pinpricks of light in him, pinpoints of reason. It wasn’t her job to heal his wounds. And yet there was a part of her, one that was bent on saving everyone, that wished she could. 

“Sion, just because the people in your memories are dead doesn’t mean they’re gone,” she said. “They’re still with you. The emotions they stirred up are still there. Good and bad.”

”Yes.”

He didn’t have to say that it was torture on its own. Arawn already had a feeling. 

“You should rest.” Sion said. “I will guard you.”

”I can’t say I’m used to that."

”You have a crew who will,” Sion said. “Including me.”

***

Arawn was asleep, later on. She slept restlessly, Sion found, even as he half-slept, half-guarded. And still that urge, that urge to protect her, to shield her from anything that made her unhappy. Sion had not felt that in a long time. 

It occurred to him that he had been selfish. The Sith thought inwards, about themselves, and Sion had been no exception. He’d started off as a selfless man. Hadn’t everyone started out as selfless one way or another? 

It seemed to be a recurring theme. 

Sion had been fundamentally an idealist. It had been why he’d joined Exar Kun in the first place, he remembered. Exar had made promises that, accordingly, he couldn’t keep. 

Sion had given and given, and now he wasn’t sure what he could give now. He wanted to give. He couldn’t describe this feeling, wanting to make her happy, to see her safe, to protect her. Then again, Arawn had a talent for inspiring that. Even, apparently, from afar. 

Not for the first time, Sion was struck by how lovely she was. Small but strong. Her hair bound back in a ponytail, thick and brown, some strands falling in her eyes. 

Sion wished there was a word to describe these feelings. He’d felt them before, but now it seemed the word to describe them was lost to history.

He only wanted to give her happiness. The utmost. That described it. Wanting to heal her wounds, not with anger, but with the conviction that he believed in her and admired her. 

Maybe he just wanted to be a better person?

Sion settled into a meditative position. It was a modification of the typical meditation position, on his knees with his hands together. The Force...he had seen it as a deity, frequently a sadistic teacher, and he had treated it as such. 

“Save her,” Sion said, softly, to empty air. Even saying it aloud, his voice was gentler, gentler than a Lord of Pain had any right to be. And he meditated, feeling strangely more at peace than he had any right to be. 


End file.
